Blue Eyes and Tragedy
by BWPR
Summary: He generally avoided the boy with the blue eyes who always seemed to walk through life half asleep. But when said boy starts to flip out on the plane to Paris right before it explodes, he could have never predicted how close they would become. And how amazing that boy could be when he was awake. Rated M for explicit language, violence, and possible adult themes. Will be fluffy.
1. Chapter 1

So this has been nagging at me for awhile and there are barely any stories for this fandom, especially for this pairing. Let's see how this turns out. Going to keep it pretty close to the plot at the beginning before diverging for my own plot. Also going to use some actual scenes and dialogue from the movie, sorry if it is incorrect at all, I'm going off of mostly memory.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the Final Destination series.

* * *

The moment he saw Browning start flipping out on the plane, he couldn't help but get involved. Something about Browning just...set him off, always has set him off. The rather forgettable boy with the average looks and the average intellect and yet, something about him caught Carter's attention. Maybe it was the way he was never really interested in anything, the way he passed through life as if he were half asleep. Or maybe it was his eyes. They were the clearest blue eyes he had ever seen, and they always seemed to stare right through him as if he didn't exist. It was unsettling and frustrating just as much as it was exciting. So when Browning finally came alive, attention fully in reality and freaking the fuck out on flight 180 right before departure, Carter was drawn like a moth to a flame.

Very few people knew the extent of Carter's fear of death. Of dying alone and being buried six feet under in a suit he had never worn, of being forgotten because he never amounted to anything memorable. So when Browning kept saying that the plane was going to exploded, his fear ignited. Everything was red. He could feel the flight attendants grabbing him and dragging him off the plane. He could hear Terry trying to get his attention, trying to defend his actions like she always does. But all he could see was Browning. Browning, who was finally awake, only to be acting like he was having a mental breakdown. He may have been concerned if he wasn't long gone himself in a combination of anger and paranoia. Everything is a blur of emotion until he finds himself punching Browning, trying to make him shut up. That look on his face, that snarl of rage that spoke of deep seated hate, seemed so out of place. Browning was yelling at him. And he was yelling back, but he doesn't know what he's saying. There's blood on his knuckles and while this was pretty normal for him, he only felt sick. He verbally bullied Browning and occasionally pushed him around with his other friends, but he had never actually hurt him. He had crossed a line. They were both on the floor, each being restrained by a guard, when the windows exploded.

There was sound and heat and glass flying through the air. He was in shock as he looked to the windows, only to see the fireball in the sky. He didn't recognize it at first, couldn't comprehend what he was seeing. And then it suddenly hit him. He looked to Browning, wanted to see if he had made the connection, if he had the same response. But Browning was looking at the sky still, his eyes wide and horrified, but unsurprised. Seconds later he turned to look at Carter, and for a sick second, he was smug. Browning had looked at him first. Instead of looking to his buddy Tod or that creepy Clear who was always staring at him, Browning looked to him. But then that was gone, and he felt nothing. Looking into his eyes, he knew he was right. That was flight 180. They could've been part of that fireball, incinerated and free falling back to New York. But instead they were safe in the airport lobby, surrounded by broken glass and screams, because Browning had gotten them all thrown out the plane. He had been right. But god how it looked like he wished he had been wrong.

* * *

Carter avoided looking directly into Browning's eyes as they all sat in the cramped waiting area. They were all looking at him in some way, most like he was freak or like it was his fault that the airplane exploded. But Carter avoided looking into those eyes and seeing the damage. Of seeing those eyes that would actually be looking into him rather than through him this time. And he wasn't prepared for that. So instead he glared at the air next to his head, tensing just a little bit more every time Tod gets too close to touching Browning. He vaguely remembers that Tod's brother was on that plane too. After that he tries to avoid remembering who else was left on the plane.

Terry was basically sitting on top of him with how close she is. For once he wants to push her away, tell her to get the fuck lost like everyone else. But he can't. Not when she seems so numb and delicate, and he'll start a fight with anyone, anytime, except with her. He loved her, but he wasn't in love with her. He kind of viewed her as a friend with benefits, except to the rest of society, she fell under the label of girlfriend. He knew she felt something for him, as she put up with his shit, but he didn't really know the extent.

He normally would've been startled when Browning himself broke the tense silence, his voice angry and tired as it rang out, but he was just too done to be. While he logically knew Browning wasn't the cause of the explosion, he couldn't help but feel uncertain and wary. There had always been something off with Browning to Carter, so maybe this was it, that he was a freak.

"Is everyone dead? Are there any survivors?" Ms. Lewton dared to ask him. She looked so lost and hopeful, and he vaguely remembers she chose to send Mr. Murnau back on the plane and stay with them. Browning looked dumbstruck, but Carter could give that answer just as anyone could. He was moderately pissed at her insensitive question, but he was interested in how the other would answer.

"How would I know? You think I'm some sort of..." He looked like he wanted to continue but was at a loss for words.

"He's not a witch." Clear blurted out suddenly. Well, no shit, he already knew Browning wasn't a witch. Or a warlock or whatever. Browning turned to look at her, and Carter felt rather...unpleasant about the way they seemed to connect and understand each other.

Anything else is cut off by the men who enter the room. He knows what they are here for, listens to them as they prattle on and give no answers, only to separate them for interviews. Carter refuses to answer them when his time comes, so his interview is rather uneventful. They aren't interested in what anyone but Browning has to say anyway.

Then they are all back in the same white room. There was no room for tension any longer, only numbness. And then the door was thrown open and all their families rushed in. He watched as the Browning's engulfed their son in tearful hugs, and he wondered how much the police told them. His moderately shocked at how openly affectionate they were, and was even more surprised at how Browning buried his head into his mother's shoulder. He had never seen him interact with anyone outside of school really now that he was thinking about it. The Browning's looked like the average American family, something out of the Brady Bunch or some shit. He off handedly noticed neither of them had blue eyes.

His own parents walked calmly to him, though he could see the tears in his mother's eyes and the relief in his father's face. His mother wrapped her arm around him nonchalantly, but he could feel how tight she was gripping him. He wanted to hug her and tell them he was alright, but for one, he really wasn't, and this is the most attention his parents had given him in years aside from confrontations about school, so instead, he just nodded at them. That seemed to satisfy them for the moment. From over his father's shoulder, he could see Browning's mother offer to drive Clear home. It looks like none of her family had shown up. He didn't want her anywhere near Browning, but, from the way he was ignoring her, it looks like his...concerns were unwarranted.

* * *

He doesn't know what time it is. Upon getting home, his family sat in the living room in a tense silence. But the air was too stuffy and the expensive leather chair too uncomfortable, so Carter had left and had been in his bedroom ever since then. His TV glowed from where it was perched in the corner of his room on top of the dresser. Images flashed by, horrific images of the explosion and of debris, but he couldn't tear his eyes away.

It wasn't hard to imagine himself as part of that mess, of that wreckage scattered over miles of land. But here he was in the comforts of his bed, alive. It seemed like all the sound had been sucked out of the room, and all he could hear was the ringing of the thunder in his head. He wanted to leave, wanted to get out of the house, but he couldn't bring himself to move. Instead of feeling relieved, he felt as if something was wrong, something was off. There was a sense in the air he couldn't deny but yet was so far from understanding. His last thought before falling asleep was of bloodshot blue eyes.

* * *

Spring break passed in a haze. The survivors had been exempted from attending school, though they were still responsible for homework and tests. The only time Carter left the house was to go on drives late at night or to hang out with Terry. He didn't go to any sports events, and while he could tell this frustrated his father, he wasn't willing to press the issue. He had never been a fan of alcohol, only drinking it lightly at parties. But he found himself drinking it more regularly to keep him calm and collected when all he wanted to do was scream.

39 days after the crash, he was required to attend the memorial service. He stared blankly ahead as the minister spoke of how death was something they couldn't understand and that the plan for all of them was not theirs to chose. He was hyperaware of all the survivors, could almost sense them all. From Ms. Lewton crying on stage to Clear in the back row, he could place them all. Terry was huddled under his arm, her eyes focused on the speaker and her hands in a death grip on her rose.

He wasn't surprised that when the time came to place their roses on the memorial, Browning fell in step behind him. He didn't have to see him to know he was there, he could just tell it was him. They were in line, his arms around Terry, and he knew he had to say something.

"Hope you don't think, Browning, that because my name ain't on this wall that I owe you anything." That made him sound like a dick, but at the same time, he needed to get that thought off his chest. That thought that he should be grateful, that he owes Browning for going psycho at the right time in the right place. He could feel Terry tense in his arms, ready to break things up if he started something.

"I don't." His response was completely honest, and there was some emotion behind his words but Carter couldn't identify them. He couldn't help but say more, turning back to look at Browning.

"All I owe is these people. To live my life to the fullest." Browning didn't step away like he expected, but he did flinch, most likely from the scent of alcohol on his breath.

"Why don't you stay off the JD then, huh, Carter?" Maybe it was that acidic tone of voice, or maybe it was the way his eyes seemed to ignite, but Carter suddenly remembered what Browning had yelled at him while they were fighting in the airport lobby before everything went to hell.

 _"I wish you were on the plane!"_ Those words seemed to echo in his head. He could still picture the look on Browning's face as he screamed those words, and he couldn't help the hurt that followed now. He felt betrayed even if he had no right to be. Without thinking, he grabbed Browning's arm in a death grip. He would've grabbed his collar, but this wasn't the place to make a huge scene. And Terry was already whispering to him angrily, tugging at his arm but unable to move him.

"Don't ever fucking tell me what to do, alright? I control me. Not you." So maybe he also had a problem with people seemingly trying to control his life. Off handedly he thought of his father. But then again, having the option of living and dying taken out of his hands had also been a major hit for him.

"I'm never gonna die." It sounded pathetic and desperate to his own ears, and Browning seemed more sympathetic than angry now. As if burned, he let go of him, having never meant to actually expose himself to him like this. He turned around quickly, dropping his rose at the memorial before heading back to his seat. When Terry joined him seconds later, she refused to look at him and kept her arms crossed, clearly showing her displeasure.

He felt his jaw tense as Billy heckled Browning, followed by Mr. Lewton brushing him off and saying something hurtful, if the crushed look on his face was any indication. Maybe it was the JD, but he wanted to rush back up there and drag Browning away. Yes, he wasn't exactly friends with the guy himself, but he wasn't cruel. Oh wait, yes he was. Fuck.

He watches as people pass by Browning as he remains up there to talk to Tod. And then as Clear steps up to him once Tod walks away. Instead of placing her rose on the memorial, she hands it to Browning. When she walks away and Tod begins his speech, Browning is still up there. He looks at the sky blankly, the rose twirling between his fingers. He suddenly looks to Carter, meeting his eyes. He seems to be looking for something, and whatever he finds leaves him clenching his fist, crushing the rose in a way that leaves the petals spilling from between his fingers like blood. And Carter stares back, unable to look away from those fascinating eyes. The moment is over as soon as it began, and though his eyes long to follow Browning, they look to Tod still giving his speech.

Terry suddenly puts her hand on his arm, and he looks to find her giving him a concerned expression. He suddenly realizes all of his hair is standing on end, and there's a pit in his stomach. But he pats her hand anyway and looks back to the stage, the feeling of wrongness returning for the first time since that night.

* * *

He hears of Tod's death the day after it happens. Carter was watching the morning news for once, filled with apprehension for some reason. The news of his death didn't really surprise him, for some reason he just...knew something had happened. The news calling it a suicide, now that surprised him.

He was even more surprised later when he spotted Browning as him and Terry were driving down the street. His eyes were just drawn to that familiar shape, and he quickly registered the girl at the table next to him as Clear. His knuckles turned white from how tightly he was grabbing the steering wheel. His eyes never left the form of Browning, no attention at all given to the road or Terry. The final straw was when he glanced up, his eyes meeting Carter's for a quick second before returning to Clear. He was jerking the wheel to the left for a U-turn before he even realized he was moving. He hears the car horns and Terry's shout. And he can see a flash of a person on his bike almost under his car, but he doesn't let up. He parks perfectly at the curb. Browning's eyes are now connected to his again, and he remains seated at the table as he approaches. Terry shouts at him from the car, but he continues on his path to stand in front of the other boy. He only tears his eyes away from the other's when Ms. Lewton exits the coffee shop. She seems to step away from Browning the moment she realizes he's there, and Carter moves to stop her from leaving, his body caging her in. He can't help but feel some weird sense of satisfaction.

"Oh! Looks like we have a bit of a reunion here. When are you moving?" He hopes she feels his slight hostility. From the way Terry is trying to distract him, he knows she does.

"A couple of weeks." Ms. Lewton seems rather reluctant to share, her eyes trying to keep track of them all at once. He isn't surprised to hear Billy whining from behind him, so that was who was on the bike.

"Ah, that's too bad. We're losing our favorite teacher." He means that with all the sarcasm he can muster. He never even liked French class. Hell, the only reason he signed up for it was for the Paris trip. And what a shit show that turned out to be.

"Look, guys. There's something I need to tell you, ok?" Alex stands up and starts in, trying to take over the conversation. He hears Clear try and stop him, which only pisses him off more.

"Lived here her whole life. And now she's gotta move all because of Browning!" They are shouting at the same time, only for Terry to step in the middle before it can escalate. He looks to the sky, rolling his eyes as she starts in about how she wants to move on or something.

"...waste your life beating the shit out of Alex everytime you see him, then you can just drop fucking dead!" And then there's the sound of a horn and then there's a bus where Terry was a second ago. He flinches back, closer to Browning as something warm splatters all over him. He can feel it dripping down his face. He can hear Browning gasping and Ms. Lewton screeching, but he can really not breathe. Browning is grabbing his arm, trying to get him to look away from the mess on the street in front of him, but Carter is stuck. He's in shock, he knows it. But he can't- And then he's being shoved backwards roughly and would've fallen if Browning didn't have a grip on him. He meets those blue eyes, and he can suddenly breathe again. He composes himself and takes off his windbreaker, using it to wipe the blood off of his face. He vaguely remembers handing it to Browning as he wonders into the coffee shop to call the police. He isn't surprised to come back out to Ms. Lewton on the ground from having fainted and the others gone.

* * *

He's sitting at a barstool in the kitchen when the doorbell rings. Carter's first response is to let it ring until someone else answers it, but then he remembers that there's no one else there. His parents had simply nodded at the news of Terry's death, telling him she was such 'a nice young lady', before announcing they wouldn't be home for the next week, 'love you son, be responsible with that hot rod of yours'.

He gets up, the bottoms of his sweat pants brushing the wood floors as he makes his way to the front door. He isn't surprised to find Browning standing there in the dark, his eyes meeting Carter's with shock, as if he can't believe he actually opened the door. He nods and steps out of the doorway, silently inviting the other into his house. He briefly wonders how Browning got his address before realizing he probably just looked it up in a phone book. He makes his way back to the kitchen, listening to the other hesitate before taking off his shoes and following.

"Listen, I know you are still in shock over Terry, but-"

"Not right now, Browning. Maybe not ever. I've heard enough of your babbling for awhile, because it seems like every time you open your damn mouth someone dies. So please, _please_ , just not now." He's back in his barstool, hunched over the countertop. He's not angry or anything, just tired. He feels like he's floating, not grounded or part of this reality, but maybe that was just those shots of JD. There's a tense moment before Browning sighs and moves to take a seat next to him. He unconsciously relaxes slightly, though whether it was from the other dropping the topic or the actual presence of the other at his side he didn't know.

"You've been drinking." He sounded tired too. Carter looked over to find the other in dirty clothing that was burned in some places now that he was paying attention.

"And you look like shit." That manages to get a snort out of the other. He seems to suddenly jerk as if remembering something, and he reaches inside his coat for something. He pulls out a grey object of clothing, and Carter is startled as he recognizes his windbreaker. It's clean, all the blood stains gone and with a fresh scent that is slightly overtaken with the smell of smoke and whatever Browning wears.

"Why did you keep it?" Browning meets his eyes as if he expected something more, and the light in his eyes fizzles out just a little bit more. But then he suddenly wakes up again.

"Why do you only ever call me by my last name?" It's somewhere between an honest question and a rhetorical one. Browning leans forward until he's close enough that Carter can feel his breath when he exhales. His heart stops for a second when he registers the challenging look in those eyes. But he has to look down, back to the windbreaker folded in his arms that was once covered in blood. He can't answer that challenge. He isn't ready to cross that line, to face all those new issues that would come with it. Browning leans back like he'd been hit.

"Oh shit, that was insensitive. Your girlfriend just died." He gasps, eyes wide and hurt and guilty when Carter tilts his head to look at him. But he can't bring himself to be angry. They sit in an awkward and tense silence for awhile. It's still comforting, to have Browning just be there. With a sigh, he stands and grabs the JD. He looks into it longing before unscrewing the bottle and pouring the amber nectar into the sink.

"We all need to get together, don't we?" He turns and asks the startled boy. He seems to catch on quickly and nods, a serious look that spoke of burdens and fear overtaking his features.

"I'll go get the others, I take it you're wanted for whatever you did to get fucked up like that?"

"Yeah, the FBI are after me. Especially after they find my shoe tracks and fingerprints at Ms. Lewton's house." Carter quickly sorted through that information, crossing Ms. Lewton off the list of survivors in his head.

"We'll meet you at the debris sight?" With that, Browning nodded and started headed for the door.

"Oh, and Alex? Don't do anything stupid. You're the only one who knows who's next." The other looks up in shock at the light tone, and his face breaks into a smile at the use of his first name being used. And with that, he leaves. Carter gets going upstairs to change, not surprised when the phone rings and Clear's voice is speaking into his ear.

* * *

Okay, so there was chapter 1. I hope to write more soon. Please let me know how you guys like the plot and if I kept the characters mainly as they were.


	2. Chapter 2

I'm back! Here's chapter 2! So yes, some scenes and dialogue are clearly going to be altered as I try and make room for the romance I'm trying to create, let me know if I messed up on something important though.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters of Final Destination.

* * *

They decided to meet in front of the high school for some reason. Carter felt slightly sobered up from the drive over here, but he still wasn't feeling up to this shit. He sat there alone on a bench, an unnatural chill in the air as the memorial loomed over him. To try and stop his mind from wandering, he began to read the names. It felt wrong to him, suddenly, that the dead survivors weren't on there. Yeah, Tod, Terry, and Ms. Lewton didn't die in the crash, but they were still dead because of it. Running to his car and retrieving his trusty pocket knife, he knelt down before the memorial and began to carve. It was harder than he expected, the school actually purchasing an expensive, durable stone for the wall. His knife only left faint scratches, the polished stone seeming to mock him.

"What are you doing?" Clear's voice mumbled from behind him. He paused in his attempts, realizing her and Billy were finally present. There was an edge to her voice, as if she thought he was vandalizing the memorial. He was pissed, but instead he tried to remain focused.

"Terry's name should be on this wall." He tried to keep it brief. They weren't friends. Hell, he had never really talked to Clear before, under the assumption she was some creepy, stuck up bitch. It got under his skin that he was now connected to these people.

"So, why'd you want us to meet you here? Now?" He asked to break the silence as he stood up, giving up on his endeavor. He hadn't expected her to call them together, but he was rather behind on what was going on himself. He was surprised to hear the FBI or whatever were following Clear, and of course Alex was now the main suspect in Ms. Lewton's death. That idiot.

"Why would I want to see him?" Just because he wanted to be a little shit and was rather reluctant to let them into his car just like that. Carter also had no intention of letting them know Alex was sitting in his kitchen with him an hour ago. He was still trying to sort out why he came to him, what kind of challenge was in his eyes when-

"Because he knows which one of us is next." It was hesitant but spoken with complete belief, as if it were fact. It made all the fears he had been oppressing since Tod's death suddenly come to life, and man how he wished he hadn't poured his Jack down the drain.

He stayed silent as he began to walk towards his car, the other two following behind him. They seemed wary of him, staying more than 3 feet from him at all given times until they reached his baby. Clear of course sat shotgun, Billy not even bitching as he crawled into the backseat.

His baby still had traces of Terry's perfume lingering about, he noticed as they approached the debris sight. He should've been more specific with Alex on where to meet, the debris sight covered miles of land.

"He could be anywhere from here to a mile down the shore. You guys drive down there, start this way and we'll meet around the middle. It'll take half the time." For some reason he sensed bullshit. He could tell she knew right where Alex was, so why was she wasting time and splitting them up? He let her get out of the car and walk into the woods without a word, but instead of doing as she said, he drove ahead to the next pull off and parked.

"What are you doing man? Clear said-" Billy started from the backseat.

"Stay here," Carter ordered, interrupting. He jumped out of the car and began to jog. He made his way into the woods, just letting his feet guide him. He kept his eyes on the ground in front of him, beginning to sprint while watching for obstacles. When suddenly the trees were gone, he looked up to see he was at the tree line that bordered the beach. Alex and Clear were sitting side by side down the beach a little ways from him, far enough that he could still see them fine but that he had no chance of overhearing them. He stepped back a little bit, for some reason feeling the need to be unseen as he observed them. Clear seems to be telling a story of some kind before she starts raising her voice. He wishes he could make out the words, but they're drowned out by the wind. He watches as they turn towards each other and seem to lock eyes. It's straight out of a damn romance movie when they begin to lean towards each other. Clear's hand lands on Browning's and suddenly they're kissing.

His stomach seems to drop, and he watches as they start to full on make out. She begins to grab his arm desperately and for some reason there are tears running down both of their faces. Without a sound he turns around and heads back to the car, for the first time wishing he had just been on that goddamned plane instead of it being drawn out like this. He should've never got involved when Browning started to have a panic attack.

When he reached the car, he climbed in wordlessly and ignored Billy as he began to drive. It was best that neither Clear nor Alex suspected him of seeing their little love fest. He drove around, pretending to look for Alex with Billy until he finally emerged hand in hand with Clear from the trees on their third drive by. When they crawled into the backseat and Billy got shotgun, he couldn't help the feeling of betrayal that begin to set in. And as he seemed prone to doing, the minute he began to feel weak, he channeled that into being angry.

"We're taking you to a cabin in the woods, it's only a couple miles from my house." Clear is explaining the plan they had come up with on the way to the accident sight to Browning. The way she sounds confident that he'll be safer the closer he is to her makes his blood boil.

"Keep off the highways, they'll be looking for us." And now she had the nerve to lecture him. And what the hell, they were looking for her and Browning, they would never suspect them all to be together. When he glances in his rear view mirror, all he can see is Browning's eyes. He tries to focus on the road, but the more pissed he becomes, the more he looks in the mirror. When those eyes met his the next time he looked, all that frustration that had been building up finally boiled over.

"Alright, Browning, you fucking warlock, did you know about Ms. Lewton, or what?" He wasn't surprised when his words flooded out of his mouth, nor was he surprised at the hostile tone. Browning's eyes widen in the mirror, and if Carter didn't know better, he would think that he looked hurt.

"Why do you think I was hiding?" Browning seemed content to ignore the fact that the first place he went after Lewton's was his house. His tone was sarcastic, and those eyes were so bitter. The others go back and forth, nothing useful being brought up as he continued driving. He found that looking at the road was better for his mood than looking at those blue eyes.

"I'm not talking about if you did it, or if you knew she was dead. Did you know she was going to be next before she was?" He clarified his earlier question, interrupting Browning. The tense silence that filled the car made him tighten his hands on the wheel until his knuckles were white. He regretted the waver in his voice, but he needed an answer. When he was given the affirmative, it was like the rug had been ripped out from under him. His breath caught in his throat momentarily until he realized that one of them was next. He wasn't even aware that the words slipped out until both Clear and Billy turned to Browning for an answer. But he gave none. And suddenly Carter knew.

"Me, right? That's why you're not saying." He was surprised how even and emotionless his voice was. Browning's eyes met his again, pleading with him to let it drop. Billy is moaning and groaning in the seat next to him and can he get a fucking grip?

"What're you whining about? He said I'm next," he snaps at him.

"He didn't say anything. Just drive," Clear tries to distract him.

"You have a responsibility to tell me." His voice is starting to get louder. And he finally realizes that yes, a part of him blames Browning.

"You think knowing is going to make it easier? It just makes it harder, Carter." Browning finally vocalizes, his voice tired and frustrated. He normally would stop, but an image of Clear and Browning making out pops into his head.

"You get off having control over me. Let me choose how to deal with it." He watched as Browning rolled his eyes. Did he think this was some kind of joke, that Carter's life was a joke? Did he think that he couldn't handle knowing?

"It doesn't matter who's next, we're all on the same list," He insisted flatly. He seemed set on not saying anything else for the duration of the car ride, settling back into the seat. Carter sat in silence, considering and loosening his grip on the wheel slightly. They all needed to stick together, yes. But he was next, and there was no stopping death this time. He had nothing left to live for. To spend his life being his father's project? He and Terry were supposed to go to college together, him with a sports scholarship and her with an intellectual one. She could be an airhead sometimes, but she did rather well in school overall. But now she was gone. Browning had his own dreams and goals, and now maybe even Clear if he lived. He couldn't understand. None of them could.

"Then why bother? What's the fucking point? Terry and me will be back together on the other side, so why wait any longer?" He slammed down on the gas, and he had never felt this high before. There was fear, yes, but there was also a level of acceptance he had never had before regarding death. The others started to become concerned, hesitantly but loudly bringing up his erratic driving.

"What's your fucking worry if it's not your time? I could get nailed running this red light and you all wouldn't get shit! Only me, right?" He began to trail off, his thoughts only cemented that at least he wouldn't be responsible for their deaths like Terry's.

"No!" Browning yelled, though he sounded concerned for Carter instead of them. So yes, it was only him though. He looked in the mirror and Browning was right there, hand on his seat, leaning forward to be heard better. He could almost feel his breathing on the back of his neck. He looked away, back to the road. His car just narrowly missed being T-boned while running the light. But still nothing. Why wasn't anything happening? Did even death not want him? He took his hands off the wheel and put them up, whooping and smiling like he never had before. He mindlessly stopped anyone else from taking the wheel and casually responded to any threats or bargaining from the others. Clear tried some kind of emotional bullshit, but it came out with her basically calling him a coward and like hell that bitch knew him.

"We're afraid, too, Carter, but we're not going to quit. Maybe you are. You act like you're not, but you are!" He looked back at her words, meeting her eyes this time in his mirror. She looked pissed, but he could see the way her hand gripped Browning's. Seeing the approaching railroad tracks, he decided to fulfill her wishes when she tried to order him to stop the car. He stopped the car on the tracks just as the crossing arms dropped into place in front and behind the car. He turned off the car in silence as their relief turned into horror. He looked in the mirror to see Clear and Browning's reactions. Both were looking at Billy instead of him, and damn if that didn't make the high wear off a bit. He smiled as Billy finally got his door open, and they flew like bats out of hell out of his car. He watched in awe as they scrambled to the other side of the crossing arm just as the train came around the distant bend. All he could see was the light though.

"Carter, get out!"

"Don't do it! Don't do it!"

"It's coming! It's coming!"

Why were these people, well, at least Clear and Browning, so set on saving him? He didn't deserve it, and though he still didn't want to die, couldn't they see that it was his time? He looked away from the train to them. The light left white spots in his vision, and it kind of looked like Browning was sparkling. He was leaning over the guard, his arm outstretched as if he could reach him from there. Without even noticing, his hand with the keys gripped in it approached the starter. Maybe it wasn't his turn? Oh shit. He turned the keys, but all the car did was sputter. He looked to the door as the locks engaged. And of course his seatbelt wouldn't unfasten, what the fuck? The train just kept getting closer, that white light starting to engulf him.

"I can't get out!" Did he always sound that hoarse? He went back to tugging at his seatbelt when suddenly there was another hand next to his, trying to help him unbuckle. He looked up and Alex looked like an angel outlined in white like that. And suddenly Alex's lanky arms were around him, as if he could lift him out the window. It hurt his ribs but Alex was so warm, and damn did he smell good. He could see the actual train now and if Alex didn't succeed or give up in the next few seconds, he would die too. And with that thought in mind, Carter began to help, wiggling his way out of the window and trying to find a weak point to tear the belt.

One second he was in the car and the next he was falling out of the way of a train. He could hear the wind rushing by him and the crash of metal on metal. Alex was falling with him, his eyes shut as if prepared for impact. Football training kicking in, he grabbed him so Alex's back hit the ground. He winced as his head also hit the ground, but he was safer like this, with Carter's body shielding him from the debris from the crash just feet behind them. His back hurt as he hunched over Alex, feeling glass and sharp metal hit it. Some of it bounced right off, but some of it also cut through his jacket like it was nothing and imbedded themselves in his skin. He was also pretty sure he had lost a shoe too. He opened his eyes to check on Alex, only to see Alex trying to focus on him, his gaze momentarily dazed from that rough landing. The train was still going but there was no more flying metal, so Carter began to roll off of him. But he was stopped when arms encircled his neck and dragged him down until Alex was breathing into his shoulder and all he could see was the ground.

"You dumb jock." He sounded like he was close to crying, so he just stayed still for a second, letting Alex process that they were alive. When that second was up, he rolled off forcefully to break the grip on him. He watched, propped up on his elbow, as the train continued as if hitting his car meant nothing and as Clear ran over to Alex. She slid on her knees into him, engulfing him in a hug, though Alex's eyes remained on the train. He himself still can't believe he's alive, that Alex saved his ass. But the shred of seatbelt still clutched in his hand was all the evidence he needed.

"THAT'S RIGHT! HE'S RIGHT! YOU ARE NEXT! I'M GETTING THE FUCK AWAY FROM YOU!" Billy screamed as he scrambled to his feet and backed away from him. Way to break the moment, that ass.

"Shut up, Billy!" Let him catch his breath before he has to consider if he is still next on the list. Clear has finally released Alex and is kneeling over him slightly, checking him for injuries and completely ignoring Billy. Alex is looking at Billy as if he was an annoying yet interesting bug, and he could kind of relate with the way his face was contorted as he screamed.

"I DON'T NEED IT EVER! GET AWAY FROM HIM! HE'S NEXT!" He seemed to plead with Clear and Alex. Carter looked at them, slightly curious if they would heed Billy's words and leave him. It was shocking how much that idea bothered him. But when he met Alex's eyes, he just shook his head and suddenly Carter could breathe again.

"Fuck you, I'm not dead!" He almost wanted to add a 'yet' but had a feeling that wouldn't help his case. Suddenly, he could hear a sound. It sounded like when a car part wasn't properly installed, like rattling metal. He could see it under the train, a bent piece of debris shifting with the thundering of the train above it. And he felt it, the feeling of wrongness, of death, loom.

"YOU WILL BE! YOU'RE DEAD! YOU'RE DEAD!" And Carter watched as a chain under the train hit that debris and sent it flying. He tracked its path as it shot out from the tracks. Then suddenly it was in the bushes somewhere, but how did it get past Billy? He got his answer as Billy's head just fell off and his body fell over just as the train ended. Shit, but he couldn't look away as blood just pumped out of his body and onto the ground. He felt a hand grab his wrist in a vice grip, and he was relieved to find Alex right there, still on the ground beside him. Clear was now beside Alex instead of over him, and it looked like he had pushed her away slightly.

"You should have been next. After Lewton, you should've been next. That's the only pattern. You should be dead." He sounded breathless and rather crazed, his eyes shining as he looked over Carter. The way Alex said it though, like he was in awe, stopped Carter from feeling offended. The hand still on his wrist also may have been a factor.

"But I saved him. I intervened. Just like the plane. That's the design. That's why It skipped Carter and went to the next one in the path of the explosion; Billy." He sounded so happy as he worked this out.

"'Intervention?' What are you, God now?" He meant to sound incredulous, but it only came out as amused.

 **"** Of course not! Gods aren't afraid to die! Gods don't die! We do!" Okay, so maybe Alex had lost some marbles in that fall. But he looked so fascinating right then, smiling but eyes darting around. It was like how he was before, like he was only half aware. But he was still here, here with him and Clear. So it was more a question of sanity than awareness.

"You're losing it. The police will be here soon. We have to go to the cabin. You can hide there. Get your head together." Carter could hear sirens in the distance now that he was paying attention. They all started to get up, but the moment he tried to even sit all the way up, he felt pain like nothing he had felt before. It felt like he was on fire, and his ears were ringing. Alex was grabbing his shoulders, keeping him upright and there were hands on his back.

"What's wrong?!" Alex yelled at Clear while trying to stop his screaming, though it was starting to cut out and break. He wanted to stop, but he wasn't really in control of his body right now.

"His back is torn to shreds! It must be from the debris!" If Clear was wondering why only Carter was injured when Alex was right there too, she didn't let it slip. He finally trailed off as black spots entered his vision. He swayed slightly but tried to focus on Alex's hands, which were on his face now.

"I'll take him to the cabin, he needs medical attention but if they take him in he won't get any help for hours. You get to your house. After me, it's you and if we're together, it only makes it easier." Alex strategized. Carter could see Clear was unwilling to separate from Alex, but when she glanced at the sorry state he was in, she only nodded. It took both of them to carefully lift him to his feet. It hurt so bad, but he was getting used to it. Well, at least that's what he told himself. He would never admit to having screamed some more.

They began to walk to the cabin, leaving the lights and sounds and Clear behind as they got deeper into the forest. Alex's hand was tentatively placed on the small of his back, guiding him as Carter focused on putting one foot in front of the other. They were silent, trying to listen for sirens or anything unusual.

He glanced at Alex, finally realizing that, yes, he did indeed have some feelings for the boy with blue eyes that was walking alongside him. And with that, he also realized that said boy was next to die. Well, shit.


End file.
